Keegan paced the living room. He did his best thinking on his feet and his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his trousers. He couldn’t remember the month they’d broken up, but he believed a year had passed.
He sensed watchful eyes on him and stopped. “What?” he asked the room of inquisitive eyes.
“Aren’t you going to invite her in?” Smith asked.
“Do I have to?” He didn’t have to. Nowhere was it written that exes needed to be cordial to each other. Smith of all people should know the many reasons why he should do the opposite.
“Don’t you think you should?” Echo asked.
After what Bonita had done to him, he didn’t owe her a thing. In fact, she owed him. It didn’t look, though, as if she came to repay what she’d stolen from him. She’d come to take. Again. “Do you think she knows anyone’s here?” He paced again, watching Smith prune his mouth and lift a brow.
“She waved at me when I looked out. Sorry, bro. I thought the demons had returned for another go at it.”
Hell’s bells. What was he to do? Run? Hide? Both excellent options.
“Keegan?” Echo caught up to him.
He stopped and looked at her. “Yes?”
“Talk to her,” she said.
Echo meant well, but she had no idea what she asked him to do. He ran a hand through his hair. “You don’t understand. If I speak to her, Bonita will take that to mean I still love her.” He would also be undoing what he'd worked hard to accomplish these past several months. Bonita would think he'd missed her, was sorry he’d broken off their relationship, and wished to take up with her again. He'd been on the merry-go-round one too many times not to know her method of operation.
The woman was a leech. She saw things the way she wanted to see them, all to serve her purpose.
The child she carried was not his, but she would have him believing it was. Hell’s bells. Just her appearance on his doorstep had him questioning paternity. She affected his judgment that easily. The woman was a sorceress.
He peered at Echo, who raised her eyebrows to him, silently suggesting he handle this matter. Maybe he should talk to Bonita. Maybe she wasn’t here for the obvious reason.
What was he thinking? Of course, she was.
Keegan stepped onto the deck and took a deep breath. “Bonita.”
She turned from the lake. “Keegan,” she said and ran to him. She slammed herself against his chest. “I knew you’d see me.”
He put his hands on her elbows and nudged her backward. “What do you want?”
She lifted her head and looked at him, pulling on her bottom lip. “You’re not happy to see me.” She cast her eyes downward, tears dripping down her freckled cheek.
He raised his hand to wipe away her hurt, but caught himself before completing the gesture.
“Can we talk inside?” she asked and ran her hands up and down her arms. “I’m chilly.”
No. Forget your manners, Keegan. Forget your upbringing. You can’t be nice to Bonita, remember? She mistakes kindness for ownership.
He stood his ground, but not without difficulty. “Say what you came to say and leave.” His mind told him to be stern when his heart wanted nothing more than to reach out to her. She had that effect on him.
Would it never end…that irrational hold she had on him?
“I hurt you.” She looked into his eyes.
He held her stare and said nothing. Words would give her ammunition to use against him.
“I’m sorry.”
She almost had him believing her sincerity. “I know.”
“Aren’t you the least curious why I’m here?” she asked.
Undoubtedly, the reason had everything to do with her bulging mid-section. “Not really,” he said, jingling coins in his trouser pockets.
“Oh, come on now. Do you really expect me to believe that? Admit it. You’re dying to know.”
“Surely, you’re not here to tell me the baby you’re carrying is mine.”
She didn’t say anything. His bluntness must have captured her tongue. He prompted her. “You’re here to extort money from me.”
“Why must you always think the worst of me?”
No, Keegan. Don’t fall for that. “Get on with it, Bonita.” He looked at his watch. “Make it quick. I have an appointment in a few minutes.”
“Fine. It is your child.” She jutted her chin.
He realized she was a heartbeat away from petulance. “How can you expect me to believe I’m the father? We’ve been over for more than a year. Are you going to tell me you froze my sperm and artificially inseminated yourself? There’re laws against that, you know.”
“No.”
“Had yourself artificially inseminated, then?”
“No.”
He tired of this game. “What then?”
“Remember the night I came for a visit eight months ago?”
Ah. He recalled the evening clearly, how she knocked on the garden doors like a stranger, how her eyes were rimmed with red and tears streaked her face, how she threw herself into his arms when he opened the door, how they ended up in bed.
The baby was not his. He’d taken precautions.
It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t. She lied. She had to be lying. He had to prove it and thought quickly. “Bonita, a childhood disease rendered me sterile.” He put on his lawyer face, the one that said he wasn’t an idiot.
“No!” She sliced her hand through the air around his face.
He didn’t flinch. “Ask my mother if you like.”
“She’d only lie to protect her precious baby boy.”
The child wasn’t his. Hallelujah.
“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”
He took a business card from his wallet and handed it to her. “He can reach me at this number.”